Resuscitate
by Kink Fluff Angst
Summary: Patrick Jane faced death many times, but he couldn't remember a time where he'd had a pipe pressed against his throat. T for language. Jane Pain.


**A/N: I know I should be working on Red Wrist but this _fucking plot bunny_ popped into my head last night and I couldn't focus on anything else. Yeah, it's whump. **

**T for language. **

* * *

Patrick Jane had looked death in the face more times than anyone could keep track of. He had a dangerous job, working with the police and all, but despite all prevention to make sure the bad guys couldn't get to him, sometimes they did.

He had had knives pressed against his jugular (a pair of scissors once, too). Guns had been held to his back, chest, head, he had stared down barrels, always wondering how the hell he had gotten into this predicament. He'd been pelted with baseballs, had cars explode in his face, driven ridiculously fast in the rain. But he couldn't recall a time where he had a pipe pressed against his throat.

Jesus Christ, the guy was _huge_. Jane knew he was absolutely no match for this monster. He hadn't struggled, but performed the 'innocent act', one of his specialties. He thought he had had it under control, but when did Patrick Jane _ever_ have anything under control?

Aw, shit, backup was there. He could here yelling of the guys with guns from outside, telling the suspect he was surrounded. The dude freaked, of course, and rounded on Jane.

The blonde consultant backed against the concrete wall, trying to find away out of this situation, but he couldn't. This was about the time Lisbon would bust him out. His eyes flicked to the barred door. Nothing. The monstrosity came at him, wild eyed, clutching an old piece of metal pipe. Jane half expected him to bash his skull in, but he wasn't so lucky.

The Monster shoved him against the wall, hard, and pressed the pipe against his neck. There wasn't too much pressure, Jane could still breathe, but he wasn't going anywhere, despite his struggling.

"_Come out, with your hands up!"_ Good lord, that wasn't the SWAT team. That was just Lisbon. She sounded like she was about to cut someone up, but it was still Lisbon.

Hammering against the door. The plank of wood wouldn't hold for long. As a reflex, the Monster applied more pressure. Jane coughed, trying to swallow.

A horrible sound, and splinters. The doors had open and Jane could see the faces of his team along with one other policeman, guns raised. They were barely in when the monster roared.

"COME ANY CLOSER, AND BLONDIE DIES!"

Silence. He saw his boss, her face ablaze.

"Lisbon!" he managed.

The Monster pressed harder. "_Quiet, _you," it snarled.

"No one has to get hurt here!" she was calling.

_No, Lisbon, this isn't a time for negotiating, shoot the bastard!_ Jane thought desperately. He was only managing rasps of air, stars were shooting in front of his eyes...

He didn't want to die, not like this, anyway. This was pathetic. He could die for Red John, but this Thing wasn't Red John, it was a distraction.

He tried to yell again, but he couldn't even accomplish that. Lisbon took a step closer. _No, no no_-

In response, the Monster crushed the metal tube against his windpipe with even more force. Jane couldn't even gather a single breath. He was drowning. He lifted his arms, clawing feebly at the Monster's grip.

Jane was reminded of the _Star Wars _movies that came out when he was a kid, the originals, anyway. When Darth Vader could just motion the closing of the throat, he could lift some poor soul up and hold their air at mercy until they told him what he wanted.

And if they didn't, he smashed them against the opposite wall.

He was fading, lightheaded, and dizzy. Tunnel vision was quickly enclosing him. He couldn't see. Good lord, he couldn't see. Or hear. Or breathe. His arms fell to his sides and he went limp.

Lisbon had seen it from across the room. The light sparkled out from his eyes as his lids closed and his entire being went slack. His lips were blue, but the Bastard didn't even seem to notice. That he had just lost the thing keeping him alive. She could shoot him now.

But, oh, god, what if she hit J-

There was a loud _crack_.

The Suspect was falling, there was blood. She looked to Cho, lowering his gun. He nailed the Bastard right in through the chest.

There was a moment-just a moment-where no one moved. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and blood, and then she sprang into action.

"Call an ambulance!" So much for that fucking backup.

She was sheathing her gun as she sprinted to Jane, now sprawled on the floor against the wall. Oh shit, oh god, he was so pale that he was blue, his lips were drained of any color-

How long had it been?

Three minutes without air, and the body starts shutting down-

If the ambulance didn't get there soon-

Oh no, oh, god, please-

She laid her consultant flat on his back, trying to remember the CPR training that she prayed she'd never have to use.

Mouth-to-mouth-

She forced herself to calm down and remember. _Place two fingers under the point of the chin and place your other hand on the victim's forehead. At the same time, lift the chin and gently tilt the head back..._

Where was that fucking ambulance?

_Take a deep breath and seal your mouth around the victim's. Blow into their mouth until their chest rises. _

_Check the victim's pulse..._

Oh god, oh god Jane, come on. "Come on, don't do this to me, Jane."

Remember the CPR, Lisbon.

"I swear, Jane, if you die on me-"

No, that's stupid, he won't die, he's _Patrick Jane_, he's like the mother fucking _Batman_, invincible-

But he's still not breathing.

No, no, _NO_-

She feels the silver cross against her chest. By the gods, she'll be a kinder person, she'll donate to charity, she'll call her brothers, just save him-

She blows into his mouth again, praying, hoping, wishing.

Sirens.

Five quick compressions.

"Lisbon." It's Cho, what the fuck is he doing? He should be helping the paramedics-

Is she crying? No, she can't be crying. He's not even dead yet- He wont die, he wont he wont he wont.

"Lisbon, come on-"

No, no, the paramedics aren't there yet, there's still time, _there's got to be time_.

But he was still motionless. He was still a grayish blue.

"-I will fucking _kill _you-" She leaned over the body, ignoring Cho, and blew into Jane's mouth. She can't be crying.

The air was frozen for a millisecond. Oh god, he's _dead_-

A horrifying sound.

Patrick Jane gasped for air, hacking and coughing. It was a dry, sharp sound, but he was _breathing._

Lisbon leaned back, shaking so hard. Oh christ, oh god, he was alive.

He looks up at her, the light back in his the blue eyes she thought she'd never see again. He's gulping the air like a man stranded in the desert would be presented with water.

The air tastes rich, like he's swallowing gold. It felt so amazing to breathe again, to exist, to _live_.

The paramedics arrived, but Jane couldn't talk, let alone protest.

Oh, god, he was _alive-_

* * *

He had just stayed the night for observation. Of course, he started being his annoying self the second he found his voice. But that was Jane. Death defying and alive. The same could not be said for the Monstrosity, however. It was certainly dead.

Jane had been back at headquarters as soon as possible, she noticed, despite her wishes that he would just get some damned _rest_. She noticed the bruises that blossomed on his neck, visible above his collar. They were shocking against the paleness of his skin. She noticed him wince every time he moved a certain way or too quickly. She had cracked one of his ribs during CPR, but he was _alive_.

But, of course, Lisbon had been presented with a mountain of paperwork, but that was nothing new and it never will be. Not as long as Patrick Jane was around.

So she waved her agents home, staying late in her office, sighing at the final tranquility.

Well, almost.

Grinning, her blonde consultant knocked lightly on the door, and pushed himself instead without an answer.

"Going home soon?" he asked, leaning casually against her desk.

"Probably not," she answers shortly.

"You should."

"I wasn't the one who almost died."

"Okay, but still."

She glances up, but he's _just_ _fucking grinning._ Goddamn it, Batman. "I'm really busy, Jane." Near death experiences or not, he was still the same old infuriating thing.

"Okay, sorry, good night." He leaves, but just briefly.

"Oh, yeah, Lisbon-?"

"_What_?" she seethes.

Jane looks uncertain, but just for a moment. He breaks one of his melting grins.

"Thanks."

* * *

**A/N.2: Woah, there are a bunch of tense changes. e_e Ffffff sorry. Just try your best to focus, I hope it doesn't get too confusing. I start out in past and I'm in ~~the writing zone~~ but like three pages ago I switched into present. Meh. Also, this was written at 2 AM, there are some grammatical errors. Do your best to ignore. /scuttles off to work on Red Wrist.**

**I hope this was half decent. Reviews are awesome, positive or negative.**


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